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“Fuck!” catapults from my lungs because even though I’m upset about my coat—it’s my favorite—there is no stopping mytrajectory, and no matter how I move or twist or try to plant my feet, I’m slipping fast and furiously.

“Hold on!” someone cries out. “I’ve got you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a tall, broad man heading my way with hurried yet careful steps. But it’s too late. There’s no way he’ll catch me in time.

With one final attempt, my boots that have zero grip give out from beneath me, and I go down. Instinctively, my hand shoots out to stop my fall, which it does, but it also slips on the freezing cold, icy sidewalk, and I land on it. Hard. Pain slices from my hand to my elbow, immediately followed by a sharpthwackwhen my ass and back meet concrete. Thankfully I stop myself just in time to prevent smacking the back of my head.

“Ow.” It’s a pathetic whimper and not nearly adequate enough to cover the pain. For a moment, I don’t move. I’m too stunned. A cry crawls from my lips, and tears threaten as I slowly sit up and cradle my injured wrist with my other hand just as the stranger reaches me.

“Keegan, are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” I answer reflexively, though I want to cry like a baby from the pain and shock of it, but I hold it in. I force a chuckle. “I didn’t know it was tryouts forClumsy Doctors on Ice.”

“Oh, love. That was a horrific fall.” A hand brushes some of my hair from my face.

“I was just testing gravity. I’m happy to say it’s still intact.”

He brushes off my poor attempt at humor and lame jokes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. Is it broken?”

Hold on. How does this stranger know my name? And why is he touching me?

Except wait. I know that voice. That accent. I’ve heard it on screen and in person—not to mention dreamed about it—far too many times not to know the person it comes with.

I whip toward the sound and am suddenly face-to-face with a pair of… brown eyes. Hidden under large, gray-framed glasses with a nose that’s… a bit too big. Hair that should be blond appears brown, is longer than I remember it being, tucked under a Boston Rebels baseball hat.

What in the what? I could have sworn…

I tilt my head and squint, my eyes disbelieving in the dark evening as I take in the face before me that doesn’t match up with the voice and accent I’m positive I heard. Not to mention, he used my name, so he knows it’s me. Not uncommon in this town considering I’m a famous Boston Fritz, but still. Usually strangers on the street don’t call me out by name.

He smirks at my expression, and I know that smirk. I’d know it anywhere.

“Loom—”

The smirk instantly slips, and he subtly shakes his head.

“I don’t understand,” I admit. “Did I hit my head? Am I concussed?”

“No, darling, just shhh.” He holds his finger up to his lips before coming back for my face, his fingers gentle as he wipes an errant tear from my cheek. “Are you badly hurt?” He sinks into a deeper crouch, his eyes all over me as he checks me for injuries and notes my wrist.

“No,” I state, though the wobble in my voice doesn’t sell it for either of us. “I was just a bit stunned. It’s not every day I eat concrete in the middle of Boston. I fell on my wrist and hand. I’m sure they’re fine.” I glance down. “Unlike my coat. That’s ruined.”

“Are you sure they’re not broken? Can you move your wrist and fingers for me?”

No, I’m not sure, and I don’t want to try to move them just yet because they hurt something fierce. “It’s likely just a sprain.”

“You should go to the hospital. Have someone there check them out.”

“I’m a doctor, remember? I can do that.”

“Yes, I know you are, but you don’t have X-ray vision unless I missed something. In which case, what color are my briefs?”

“That seems a bit forward for a meet-cute.” I raise a pointed eyebrow at him. “Do you always ask women on the street to try to guess what color your underwear is?”

Humor dances in his eyes. “Only the really beautiful ones I meet-cute in tragic situations. Though I think we deserve a better one than this, don’t you?”

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

Loomis chuckles. “Frozen. That’s what I am. Here.” He wraps his arms around me and slowly helps me to my feet. The sleet or freezing rain or whatever is to blame for my fall is stopping, but it doesn’t make the air any warmer. “Are you okay? Please tell me truthfully.”